Vital Signs
by TheVelvetDusk
Summary: "It was so achingly similar to what he would do for any fallen ally - searching for that pulse, that breath, that rising and falling motion of the body - except this wasn't about the physical preservation of life. It was even more elusive than that, and that's what really had him on edge." Lyatt two-parter, canon through S1. (TFP)
1. Chapter 1

_a/n : oh look, another prompt from the TFP challenge: Cold temperatures force characters into close proximity._

* * *

Wyatt was fully trained in more than just the basics of First Aid. It was information that he'd learned long ago after first enlisting, but that was just the beginning. There were always new tests out in the field, as well as required trainings and re-certifications every few years at the very least. He knew how to applying field dressings and create tourniquets. He'd familiarized himself with weather-related risks, could swiftly identify everything from heat exhaustion to hypothermia without a second guess. He was well versed in finding the correct pressure points to help slow the bleeding depending on the varying locations of a wound. He could form a makeshift splint with a variety of different equipment - a bayonet, a rifle, an entrenching tool, tent stakes, a spare tree branch and God knows what else if necessary.

The blood and guts of the job had never really bothered him. As long as there were still blood and guts to deal with, there was something to be done; there was a mission to uphold, a buddy who depended on him to get them home safely. Injuries were to be expected, and he'd always choose to deal with an injury before he'd accept the alternative.

Checking for vital signs, however - a pulse rate, a temperature, the respiration rate, and blood pressure - was a task that had him swallowing back bile every time. It was a devastating responsibility. It was the one thing he'd never been able to numb himself against over the years - standing by, essentially helpless, as one of his guys gradually crossed the chasm from life to death right before his eyes. The race for a pulse, a breath, a rising and falling motion of the body; all of it wasted, futile. Too little too late. It usually haunted him for months, years even.

For reasons he couldn't quite explain, Wyatt was feeling equally helpless each time he snuck a glance across the room at a certain downcast historian. Lucy was calmly explaining the causes of an impending blackout to Rufus, and from where Wyatt sat on one of the lumpy twin beds on the opposite wall, it was almost impossible to see the difference in her. She was using that patented teacher voice of hers, equal parts educational and energized. It was obvious that she was meant to do this job, for she never completely lost that dewy-eyed animation when the scenes from her textbooks began to weave together into the realm of a living and breathing hands-on world that far surpassed anything she'd experienced in the academic arena. She was actively participating in history, contributing to the outcomes she'd studied all her life, and the glow of it never quite left her expression.

But even though Wyatt could still discern that bit of childlike wonder coloring her words as she discussed glitching transmission lines and overwhelmed power stations, it was just about the only positive vital sign she had left at this point. The shift had begun slowly, which really should have been his first indication. She'd handled the news about her mom far too well. She'd been forced to weather the initial shock of it in just a handful of hours, and then they were off again, protecting history from Emma instead of Flynn, and Lucy had flung herself into the fray without pause. She'd been so sure that they could snuff out Rittenhouse's resurgence before they had the chance to build up much momentum, and in hindsight Wyatt could see that she'd been too bright at the prospect of fighting back for another round, too hopeful for a fast victory in their favor. It hadn't been real.

So when one jump became two, then three and four and _more_ , that false optimism eventually starved itself to death. Lucy became resigned and ever-so-slightly withdrawn. He had to squint to see it, but she was compelling herself to be good company through sheer willpower, building up the energy to pretend that she was eagerly participating in nights out at the bar and extra hours at Mason Industries. He could see the robotic motion behind it, as if she were programming herself to pass as normal when she was far from it. There was less smiling, less talking, less eating. More drinking, more distance, more makeup to cover the growing circles beneath her eyes.

But he'd been encouraged when he realized that she was still welcoming his presence in her life even when her interest in socialization had been waning away to nothing. They were practically next-door neighbors now that she'd moved out of her mom's house, and Wyatt made every excuse in the book to wheedle his way into her apartment as often as he could. He borrowed three eggs from her when he had a full carton of them in his fridge. He claimed that he'd heard a weird noise and wanted to be sure that it hadn't come from her place. He was supposedly bored and asked her for suggested reading material. He ' _found_ ' her sweater in his car and wanted to return it. He intentionally ordered enough takeout for two and then begged her to split it with him after realizing it was too much for just him.

She wasn't stupid, not that her intelligence had ever really been in question. There was always a wary look, a doubtful roll of the eyes, a long sigh. And then she would let him in and never made any attempt to shoo him off once he'd gotten through the door. She'd become the Lucy that he recognized, the one that laughed and teased and smiled. It may have all been a little subdued, tainted with sadness and fatigue, but he took that as a good omen. She wasn't trying to fake it when he was the only one around. She _was_ sad, after all. He was relieved that she let him see it, didn't try to hide it or excuse it.

And when she was like that - vulnerable before him, tired and stressed and gloomy - that's when he felt most liberated to also be one-hundred percent honest about his own feelings. He hugged her more often, kept an arm around her while they sat close on the sofa, refilled her wine glass when she gave him the imploring puppy dog eyes, and did his best to reminded her that she wasn't going through this alone.

He didn't make a move, didn't overtly talk about _possibilities_ , didn't initiate anything beyond their established level of physical contact. He wanted to, dreamt about it even, but was terrified of upsetting their delicate balance...terrified that the first woman he cared for since Jessica would go running in the opposite direction if he chose the wrong moment to take that next step. So he held his breath and waited it out.

Until she'd taken that next step for him, of course.

It was just last night that he'd taken her hand once they'd left the bar, waving to Rufus and Jiya as they split ways for their respective cars. Right there in a poorly-lit parking lot, he'd opened the passenger side door for Lucy and been extraordinarily surprised when she planted her lips on his instead of getting into the vehicle. She was warm and sugary-sweet, kissing him with all the light rustling of the peach sangria that flavored her mouth.

With his hands mapping their way across her jaw, he'd whispered his first and only thought with his eyes still closed. " _Finally_."

She pulled away with a self-conscience smile, leaving her hand on his arm even as she awkwardly shuffled backward. "I - I think I maybe had too much to drink tonight. Everything's buzzing...but in a good way."

Wyatt laughed, steered her carefully into her seat, and went around to his side with an unruly grin and a revving heartbeat.

He'd waited until they were almost back to the apartment complex, glanced over to be sure that she was still awake, and then confessed the irreversible truth as they passed beneath a glittering streetlight. "You know...I'd be more than happy to try that again sometime if you want. When you're sober, of course."

Lucy ducked her head with an adorably dopey smile. "That would be nice."

"Yeah? You think you'll still be interested without the liquid courage?"

She made an incredulous scoffing noise, wordlessly suggesting that he was an idiot for asking such a silly question. He'd carried that sound with him as he want to sleep later that night, instantly remembered it when he'd woken earlier than the sun, and most definitely had it playing in the back of his mind when his cell phone buzzed with news from Agent Christopher. Emma had taken the Mothership out again, which meant they were jumping too. A jump through time meant he'd soon be facing Lucy, and facing Lucy meant a chance to test the waters after what had transpired at the bar last night, and suddenly Wyatt was actually looking forward to the act of buckling himself into that God-awful nausea machine known as the Lifeboat.

He tried to catch her eye as Agent Christopher and Jiya briefed them for the jump, and was pretty sure he saw a hint of a blushing grin when he did finally snag her gaze, but she was appropriately consumed with the usual questions of when, where, and most importantly, _why_ \- the most ambiguous question of all ever since the Mothership had been commandeered by Rittenhouse. Emma's motives had been impossible for Lucy to discern lately, and it was taking an obvious toll on her. Hell, it was taking a toll on all of them.

The story was no different when they landed in Syracuse. Lucy knew that there would be a blackout less than 12 hours after they arrived in 1965, and the outage was a big one, spanning across Ontario and moving through a myriad of New England states, reaching all the way down to parts of Pennsylvania and New Jersey. What she couldn't understand was why or how Rittenhouse would want to interfere.

But after several hours of chasing down empty leads on an unseasonably cold November day, it seemed like the inevitable was bound to happen without a single clue of where to turn their attention. The clock was ticking down on them, and in this particular instance, there was nothing they could do to suspend it in their favor. The electricity was soon going to flicker and fail without any apparent tampering from Emma or her lackeys, and Wyatt had insisted that they settle in somewhere safe before night fell and chaos ensued.

So here they were in a tiny inn just a few miles from the shores of Lake Ontario, and as best as he could figure it, somewhere between touching down in the '60s and securing a room for the night, Wyatt had inadvertently done something that severed the line he'd been cautiously cultivating between himself and Lucy. He tried to coax a smile out of her when he claimed to be her husband downstairs at check-in. He had offered his hand to her as they climbed the steep staircase to the motel's second floor. He made a lame joke about the dubious ratio of three adults and two twin beds.

She didn't smile, didn't take his hand, didn't laugh. Didn't bat an eye or vary her blank expression. Hadn't uttered a solitary word unless it was directed at Rufus.

And _thank God_ for Rufus, because he was undeniably picking up on the weird vibes and had jumped right in to ease the tension, asking Lucy about the crisis at hand and how it would eventually be resolved. The two of them were quickly swept away in a conversation that interested both parties; it was the perfect blend of physics and history, which meant they were rambling on and on about topics that Wyatt would much rather tune out.

He may not have been following the actual meaning of her words, but he was listening intently to her sunken inflection, observing her pinched face carefully in the fading gray light that slipped between the curtains of the room's lone window. It was so achingly similar to what he would do for any fallen ally - searching for that pulse, that breath, that rising and falling motion of the body - except this wasn't about the physical preservation of life. It was even more elusive than that, and that's what really had him on edge. There were no simple solutions, no clear preventative role that he was trained to carry out on her behalf. Maybe he was massively overreacting and everything was fine, but when there were so few vital signs left to measure, his connection to her felt like the only stable thing he had left. If she was closing the door on him now, what was there left for him to do?

He had to find a way to fix this. There was a very real, incredibly gruesome possibility that this freeze-out of hers would carry over for another 52 years and follow them right into 2017 if he didn't figure out how he'd screwed this up. He couldn't live with the isolation, because that would mean that she'd be alone to deal with the fallout of Emma, of Rittenhouse, of losing Amy in one way and her mom in another. And that meant he'd go back to being alone too.

Wyatt was startled from his thoughts as Rufus backed away from the window, his glance swiping nervously between Lucy and Wyatt before he cleared his throat. "I'm, uh, gonna use the restroom while there's still a working light in there. We don't have much longer to go..."

He waited until Wyatt nodded back at him, then made his exit. The silence that descended upon the room was palpable, expanding over them with menacing intent.

"So, wanna fill me in why you're upset with me?"

Lucy kept her eyes on the brisk landscape just beyond the glass of the window, her posture more rigid than he'd ever seen it. He sat forward with his elbows on his knees and just plunged straight in before he could chicken out.

"I mean it, Lucy. Why don't you just tell me what I did to piss you off so I can get a head start on the groveling."

Her shoulders caved fractionally, but she didn't spare him a look. "I'm not pissed off."

"You're not happy with me," he said blandly, matching her flat tone, "so obviously I did something to cause that."

He got nothing in return but a short shake of her head. That was enough to pull him to his feet, and he didn't miss the flash of panic in her eyes as he advanced across the room.

Wyatt rubbed his temples with a sigh, angling himself against the window casing so she couldn't avoid him entirely. "Forget about me for a minute, okay? We have a job to do. We're a team, aren't we? And if the team is distracted by - "

"I'm not distracted," she said stonily, her brow furrowing with the force of her words.

He fought the urge to put his fist through the glass pane, grasping for a way to redirect his building frustration before he blew a fuse faster than the damn power outage that was coming down the line at any moment. "Okay then. So you're not pissed off and you're not distracted, but you are definitely shutting me out, so can you at least admit that something is off between us?"

"I'm not shutting you out. I'm talking to you right now, aren't I?"

"Damn it, Lucy," he breathed out bitingly, shoving his fists into his pockets. "I know how this game works. You remember I was married before I knew you, right? This is not my first ride on the cold-shoulder carousel."

He didn't know it was possible for her to appear any more pale until she noticeably blanched at his choice of words, her mouth stretching thin as she worked double time to keep her expression neutral. He was on the right track with something he'd just said, so he pushed harder, his voice going hoarse as he charged ahead. "I'm not playing around, alright? I'd gladly apologize for whatever it is - hell, I'll say I'm sorry right now just knowing that you're upset about something - but don't punish me like this. Don't leave me out in the cold."

His emotions rose up into his throat, hindering his ability to plead with her any further, but he wasn't even sure he had much left in him anyhow. This argument - or more like the lack thereof - was the equivalent of picking the scab on a barely-closed wound, and his head was starting to thrash with the beginnings of a nasty migraine.

Lucy finally loosened her statue-like resilience, swiveling just enough to let the pain in her eyes wash over him like a torrential downpour. She breathed in, scrunched up her nose, parted her lips to speak...

There was a crackle overhead, a slow hum, and then the lights died out.

* * *

" _Wyatt_. Dude...Wyatt, wake - "

"Jeez, I'm awake, okay?" He grumbled irritably, eyes still closed and brain lagging with sleep. "What d'ya want, Rufus?"

"Get her off me," Rufus whispered so loudly that it was barely a whisper at all.

Wyatt shifted idly against his half of the pillow "Huh?"

"Get. Her. Off. Of. Me."

He blinked several times, surprised at the amount of moonlight that sailed through the curtains and provided clarity to his otherwise obscured surroundings. Once he was functioning with a passable amount of awareness, he turned over and nearly burst into laughter at the sight before him. Rufus was twisted at a strange angle, gesturing down at Lucy with frantic movements, but she was totally unaware of the commotion that she was causing. Her body was curled up about as small as humanly possible with her forehead crowded between Rufus's shoulder blades, and while Wyatt couldn't really see much more from his side of the makeshift bed, he was pretty sure that her legs were huddled up against him too.

"How is this my problem?" he asked with a muted chuckle. "She's sleeping, Rufus. It's not like anything is... _happening_."

"This was your stupid idea, man. You need to fix this now. Right now."

"Are you forgetting that we're here because of a blackout? What were we suppose to do with no heat in this place?" He glanced downward, noting that Lucy had certainly migrated pretty far beyond the middle line where the two mattresses met. She'd been the first to turn in for the night, and by the time Wyatt had followed suit, she had been flat on her back in the dead-center of the bed. Definitely not the case any longer. "Just go back sleep, okay? We'd all be freezing our asses off if we hadn't pushed the beds together."

"Oh, just go back to sleep, he says," Rufus grumbled lowly, struggling to keep his voice even in the ballpark of a whisper now. "Yeah, well I _can't_. I naturally assumed that she'd wind up on your side of the bed instead of mine. The two of you just had to get into your first fight right before we're all in bed together. Awesome timing."

Now Wyatt was sure that sleep deprivation was tampering with his comprehension. "Our first fight? We fight all the time."

Rufus snickered, hissing in reply, "I mean your first _couples_ fight. I saw that kiss in the parking lot last night, dude. This is way different and you know it."

"I...we aren't - "

"Look, I don't care right now," he interrupted hastily. "Tell me later, as in _after_ you've rolled her off of me."

Wyatt watched the languid rhythm of Lucy's back as she slept on, somehow undisturbed by this outlandish exchange. "She probably moved over because you're warmer than her. What's the big deal?"

" _What's the big deal_? I'm a guy, Wyatt. I think it goes without saying that a woman - _any woman_ \- pressed up against me while I'm sleeping is...well...frick man, I don't have to spell this out for you. And for God's sake, I thought she was Jiya, okay?! Please help me out here before I wake up a second time and accidentally do something that will forever scar my friendship with Lucy."

"Oh my God, is this middle school...?" He muttered with a scowl, propping himself on an elbow and reaching for Lucy's shoulder with a massive dose of reluctance. "Connor Mason has got to up the budget for overnight expenses. This room sharing thing is getting way out of hand."

Wyatt knew that she didn't want to be close to him, a fact that she'd made abundantly clear before they'd lost power, so he wasn't too surprised that she'd maneuvered herself to the complete opposite side of the bed. But it was _also_ abundantly clear that Lucy had not been getting enough rest lately, which meant he despised the idea of disturbing her when she actually seemed to be pretty far off into dreamland. So how was he supposed to get her away from Rufus without waking her up? And if that weren't enough pressure, would she really be alright with the idea of Wyatt taking his place as Lucy's personal space heater? The science of thermodynamics was on his side, but they still hadn't cleared the air between them, not when Rufus had shot back into the room in a total frenzy as soon as the blackout had begun.

But the real bottom line was that for as much as he'd acted like Rufus was exaggerating the situation, Wyatt knew he wouldn't be faring much better if Lucy had snuggle-attacked him in the middle of the night. Especially when she wasn't just _any woman_ to him, not anymore.

As he expected, she was not sympathetic to their cause. Wyatt tried to ease her onto her back, but she whined and refused to budge. He looked up to Rufus, but his friend's face was unrelenting. "Try. Harder."

Wyatt raised his eyes to the ceiling, wondering how the hell this job seemed to get so much weirder with every fricking jump.

"Lucy," he murmured soothingly, a hand massaging her shoulder. "C'mere, Lucy."

She muttered something unintelligible, moving just an inch with the motion of his hand but then stopping abruptly.

" _Lu-cy_ ," Wyatt whispered again before glaring at Rufus. "This is ridiculous. I feel like I'm calling a dog."

"Shhh, it's working," he countered with an urgent nod.

Sure enough, Lucy was sluggishly responding to his gentle prodding. She turned over with a grunt, but instead of staying put once she'd shifted onto her back, she rolled again and nestled her face right into Wyatt's shoulder. He went stock-still, not daring to release so much as an exhale as she settled into him. She wedged an icy foot between his shins and wound an arm up over his side and across his back. With a short wriggle and a satisfied little noise in the base of her throat, her slim frame went slack against him, the entire front of her body compactly burrowed into his.

"And there it is, just as God intended it to be," Rufus murmured with a note of delight.

"Don't be an ass, Rufus."

"Whatever you say, man. Just try to keep it PG-13 over there, alright?"

Wyatt narrowed his eyes from above Lucy's head. " _Goodnight_ , Rufus."

"Goodnight, Wyatt," he singsonged with a smile. "I'd tell you to sleep tight but I don't think you have any other option."

With that Rufus turned over to face the wall, leaving Wyatt to shoot daggers into his retreating back. And then it was just him and a very clingy Lucy, bundled up together so closely that no one would mistake them for anything but lovers.

 _Goddammit_.

Their natural regard for personal space had been shrinking more and more of late, a change that Wyatt had cheerfully welcomed as they spent more time together, but this was brand new territory and he wasn't even able to enjoy it, not when he was plagued with the belief that she'd wake up tomorrow and hate him for allowing this to happen.

He closed his eyes and breathed in with some difficulty. Her hair tickling his neck, her legs grazing between his, her soft curves pressing into him - it was sensory overload.

Wyatt tilted his head back with an uneasy sigh and peered up at the ceiling, admitting to himself that sleep was now a very, _very_ long way off.

* * *

 _a/n: Part 2 will be posted super soon! Thanks for reading!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Part 2 is here! Good thing I had this done in advance, because I'm totally drowning in a sea of Timeless cast perfection thanks to SD Comic Con :))) God bless the social media age._

* * *

Sunlight illuminated the shoebox-sized motel room, gradually slanting over Wyatt's skin until he couldn't ignore it any longer. There was a wistful slowness in his waking, which was far from the norm for him. He usually sprang awake like a wind-up toy, fully alert as soon as the first dredges of perception filtered through him, but something was different today. He blinked heavily, scanned the room by force of habit, mindlessly tucking away the fact that he'd slept well into the mid-morning hours and simultaneously observing that Rufus was nowhere to be found.

And with that realization, it didn't take long to identify the source of Wyatt's quiet listlessness. Lucy was beginning to stir from between his arms, looking irresistibly creased with sleep and uncommonly at peace with a world gone wrong. Her head was still perched upon his shoulder and she was smiling a cozy little smile as she stretched out beside him. It was the lightest he'd seen her in what felt like forever, and all he wanted to do was bottle up that bliss and hold onto it indefinitely.

But then the illusion was ruthlessly ripped away as soon as she officially crossed over into the land of the conscious.

Lucy sat up clumsily once her bleary eyes lit upon his face, a strained agony contorting her features until all traces of peacefulness had been entirely choked out. "Uh, sorry..."

"I'm not," he mumbled foggily. "Didn't have to move on my account."

She gave him no response, but she also made no attempt to remove herself from the jumble of sheets that still kept them relatively close. Yesterday's veneer of cool detachment hadn't quite settled into her eyes yet, and Wyatt was not one to waste a perfectly good opening. He maneuvered himself upward against the headboard and ran a hand through his hair, zeroing in on her with all of the sleepy focus that he could muster. "Are you ready to level with me yet?"

That was all it took for the last of her groggy fatigue to drop away. Her gaze was such a pained twist of reluctance and guilt that he instantly regretted the intensity of his tone. "I...I'm not trying to play some kind of manipulative game with you. I never meant to make you feel like that, Wyatt."

"I believe you," he murmured lowly, "but that doesn't change anything. I'm still in the dark here."

"Actually the power is probably back on by now, so - "

" _Lucy_."

"Right," she chuckled, but the sound was hollow and restless. "I - uh, maybe saw Emma yesterday and didn't tell you about it."

The power may have returned overnight, but Wyatt would have sworn that the room had somehow been emptied of all oxygen in the meantime. "Here? In '65?"

She nodded with unmistakable fear glazing her rounded eyes.

"Are you kidding me?" He sighed, his whole face crumpling with disappointment. "I thought we were done with this, Lucy."

She cocked her head sideways as if she hadn't heard him properly. "Done with what?"

"The sneaking around, the secrecy and the backdoor conversations. It's like Flynn with that damn journal all over again."

Her knuckles went starkly white as she clutched the quilt in both hands. "You don't understand."

"How could I? You won't explain it to me, and I'm not a mind reader, so yeah, I don't understand at all."

Lucy's eyelids wavered precariously, but she held her emotions at bay, biting down hard until she could speak again. "I didn't seek her out. She - she popped up out of nowhere when I was checking around in the post office. It was my last stop before we all met up again. She was there when I turned back from talking to the clerk. She said she wouldn't hurt me or change anything this time if I promised to stay calm and hear her out."

"Did she also make you promise to keep your teammates out of the loop?" he asked tersely.

"No," she said in a low, croaking voice. "That was all me."

"Wonderful. So what did your pal Emma want to discuss?"

Lucy rotated away from him, looking out toward the window for several harrowing moments before answering. "She had a message for me. I needed to know that my...my mother would tolerate a lot of things from me, but she would not allow me to - to weaken the bloodline."

He nearly coughed up his last meal. "To... _what_?"

She kept her back to him, tenting her hands together in front of her face as if she were about to kneel for prayer. "Weaken the bloodline. Water down the family lineage. The Cahills and the Prestons are...oh my God, it's like I'm some type of show pony pedigree, and they - they..."

Wyatt felt queasy as he watched her chin tremble. "Lucy..."

"Don't you see why I...I couldn't tell you..." she glanced over her shoulder with crushing anguish filling her eyes. "It's so beyond screwed up. I mean, we've kissed _one time_ and now I have to tell you that Rittenhouse has issued some kind of repulsively intrusive warning about...about the consequences of us _breeding_? How the hell was I supposed to bring that up?"

She shuddered and looked away, shame creeping over her features until she covered her face again.

"Twice, actually."

"What?" she muttered with her hands still blocking her face from view.

Wyatt tried to unstick his tongue from the stifling dryness that consumed his mouth, clearing his throat before answering. "We've kissed twice."

She lifted her head with watery eyes trained on him, but her expression was far more confused than sad. "You mean...Arkansas in '34? You made it pretty clear back then that it didn't count."

"Yeah, well...I was lying." He shrugged and scratched a hand through his hair. "More to myself than to anyone, but yeah...definitely a lie. It counted."

Lucy squared her shoulders and twisted to face him more directly. "I just told you that Rittenhouse is threatening to come between us if they suspect that there's a chance we're procreating, and you're taking this opportunity to argue about when our real first kiss actually happened?"

He smirked, but there was very little humor in it. "If we count Arkansas, I get credit for kissing you first. It's an issue of pride."

"My God," she groaned as she flopped face-down onto the mattress. "Clearly there's nothing for my mom to be worried about here. I have high standards. I'm not reproducing with a Neanderthal."

Wyatt chuckled at her muffled protests, dragging himself over to her and collapsing across the bed with his head braced on his arm. His fingertips moved involuntarily to sketch over the slope of her back, magnetized by her very nearness and incapable of restraining himself. "They're not going to scare me off, Lucy."

She sniffled into the quilt. "You don't get to decide that on your own."

"Neither do you."

Her head turned to the side, revealing chocolate brown eyes drowning in sorrow. "Look, it's not too late. We're friends now, right? So why make this more difficult than it has to be?"

He scooted nearer until their noses were almost touching. "Because I want to kiss you more than twice."

Lucy visibly gulped at that, a gleam of yearning rising into her face. "I can't take that risk."

"You do realize what you're saying, right? You're choosing to be exactly what they want you to be - nothing more than a trained show pony - if you let them decide what we can and can't have together. We're the only two people who should have any say in the matter."

"I'm not quitting the team. I'm not joining their side. If this is the one thing that I can't have, is that really so - "

"Yes," he exhaled quietly, "yes it _is_ that bad. This is just where they'll start, Lucy. They're looking for a sick way to gain control, scouring the situation for any sign of weakness. If you give them even the slightest bit of leverage, you'll never be rid of them again."

She closed her eyes, momentarily shuttering him from her suffering. "I'm so scared, Wyatt. They're watching my every move, tracking every choice I make. I - I've had this feeling for weeks now, like there's always someone hovering over my shoulder, but now...now I _know_."

He put an cautious hand to her cheek and she automatically leaned into his palm. "Why didn't you tell me that you thought you were being followed? You know that we've been batting around the idea of providing personal security detail for awhile now."

Her shoulders lifted dismissively. "I was equally convinced that I was just becoming a paranoid freak."

"Okay, that's it," he murmured with a labored smirk, his hands moving to circle her waist and flip her over until her back was against the mattress. She let out a resistant clamoring noise as she went, fingers clawing for purchase on his arms. "You have got to trust your instincts, Lucy. Listening to that internal voice of yours could be the difference between life and death."

She watched him looming over her with uncertain eyes. "What does that have to do with you going all caveman and tossing me around on - "

His lips touched down against hers lightly, just a buoyant little sweep of a kiss that could barely pass for the real thing.

"Wyatt - we...we shouldn't - "

He kissed her again, upping the pressure by only a few degrees. He felt the tumbling shiver that spread over her. Her fingernails scraped at the back of his neck and then she pulled him in, meeting his mouth halfway and kissing him without any excuse - it wasn't for show and it wasn't the result of tipsy impulsiveness. It was simply Lucy taking exactly what she wanted from him, and he was all too happy to give it up for the taking.

"I know what you're doing," she said without retreating.

He snuck a blistering kiss to the side of her neck. "Is it working?"

Lucy released a euphoric hum and tipped her head back to grant him further access to the column of her throat. "This proves nothing."

"So I guess that means you want to stop." Wyatt huffed out a warm sigh that stirred up a colony of goosebumps across that swan neck of hers. "I was just getting started too."

He sat back on his haunches, but she didn't hesitate to follow after him, hauling his mouth back to hers with more speed than he'd thought possible. He grinned into the kiss, hands searching for her waist and guiding her forward against him until their hips were perfectly aligned.

Wyatt identified the squeak of the doorknob a second too late, his mouth and arms still entangled with Lucy when Rufus came staggering inside with a gust of cold November air drafting after him.

"Hey guys, breakfast is - oh shit, _hello_!"

"Oh my God, Rufus," Lucy crumpled backwards. "I - I'm sorry, we - "

"Let's just pretend this never happened," he insisted with his eyes carefully averted from the bed, shoving a collection of breakfast items onto the windowsill with far more force than necessary. "But hey, what did I expect? It's like I said - just as God intended it to be, right?"

Lucy glanced at Wyatt with a perplexed frown, but he only laughed in return, allowing Rufus' resolute claim to speak for itself.

* * *

"The Northeast blackout of 1965 was a substantial disturbance in the delivery of electricity on Tuesday, November 9, 1965. The outage affected parts of Ontario, Connecticut, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New York, Rhode Island, Pennsylvania, and Vermont."

Wyatt caught Lucy's approving nod from the corner of his eye, verifying that the details of Jiya's internet search were matching up with her expectations thus far.

"Oh and get this," Jiya called out with a significant upshot of enthusiasm, "It says that when no cause for the blackout was immediately apparent, a bunch of writers made claims that it was caused by UFOs, which was partially inspired by so-called UFO sightings near Syracuse just hours before the outage."

Lucy winced, fiddling nervously with the collar of her blazer. "Oops."

Jiya showed none of the same concern as she glanced up from her tablet. "I don't know about you guys, but I know I want to believe. Someone better call Agent Mulder about this."

That earned a groan from Rufus, but Agent Christopher seemed more or less unaffected by the minor fumble. "Good work, everyone. That's all for tonight. Get some rest and I'll be in touch."

"One more thing, ma'am." Wyatt leaned forward, acutely aware of Lucy's eyes boring into his face as he spoke. "We have reason to believe that Rittenhouse is closely monitoring our off-the-clock activities. I think it's time we move forward with the idea of assigning an agent to Lucy at all times. Rufus too."

Denise nodded her consent. "Agreed. That's long overdue anyway. Anything in particular I should be concerned about?"

Wyatt hesitated, but the memory of Lucy's withering mortification from earlier that morning had him clamming up sooner rather than later. "Nothing specific. It's just a hunch, but I'd prefer to be safe and not sorry."

"Say no more," she stood up, already tapping away at her phone with a request for additional agents. "I trust your judgment."

"Wyatt will be protected too, right?" Lucy asked suddenly, palms pressed to the tabletop. "I know he's the soldier here, but he has a target on his back just the same as the rest of us. He can't possibly be expected to remain on high alert all the time."

Wyatt was already queued up to argue against that statement, but Denise leveled him with an unswerving look. "Yes, we'll provide someone for Wyatt too. That's final."

Agent Christopher was the first to make her exit from the conference room, and Rufus and Jiya were right behind her, both of their heads bent over her tablet as they discussed the merits of an _X-Files_ episode based on Lifeboat sightings throughout history. That left Wyatt and Lucy sitting there alone with nothing but three miles worth of friction between them.

She broke first, unleashing those massive doe eyes on him as she spun her chair in his direction. "Thank you for being discreet about what Emma told me. My dignity can only take so many hits in a 24-hour window."

"Believe it or not, even I have _some_ self-respect," he said with a wry smirk. "I like Agent Christopher well enough, but she doesn't need to hear about the possibility of future copulation between us."

Lucy cringed and dropped her gaze to her hands. "Well, on that note..."

She pushed back from the table and began to collect her bag from the chair next to her.

"Not so fast," he continued with a grin, "on that note, _we_ do need to discuss the possibility of future copulation between us."

"How romantic," she grumbled sourly.

Wyatt pushed himself up out of his chair and propped his hip against the edge of the conference table, unapologetically crowding into personal space. "I liked waking up with you in my arms this morning. It's a good thing you're cute, because you are one hell of an aggressive cuddler and I don't put up with that from just anyone."

She flushed, sitting forward with a groan. "Wyatt - "

"Oh, and in case you weren't sure, I don't actually care who gets the props for initiating our first kiss as long as we keep on kissing," he went on as if she hadn't said a thing. "And if I really thought you needed time to be ready for this relationship, I'd give you all the time in the world, but that's not what's holding you back. I wasn't sure when you kissed me the other night at the bar, but today in that motel room...I know that you want this just as much as I do, Lucy. And even then, I'm still not going to blackmail you into dating me, okay? But if you care about me _at all_ , platonically or otherwise, then please don't ever close yourself off to me like you did yesterday. Pushing me away like that...it's the one thing I can't accept from you."

She'd long ago pressed a steadying hand to her mouth, but he saw the quiver that clattered through her nonetheless. Wyatt reached for her wrist, his thumb gliding over her smooth skin before he spoke again. "How's that for romantic, ma'am?"

"Much better," she whispered faintly.

He lowered his face to hers, but she pushed against his chest at the last possible second, distancing him from her with a repentant look.

"How can you be so sure about this?" she murmured almost inaudibly. "After what happened to Jessica, shouldn't you be the first to shy away from something that's so...so ill-fated?"

"Ah, your good friend fate is back to torment us again," he said with half of a grin. He straightened up, dropping the teasing tone and bringing her hand up to his heart. "For what it's worth, have you ever gotten the sense that I regret getting married in the first place? Have I ever said that I think my life would have been better if I'd avoided Jess from day one and never loved her at all?"

"No, but I do get the sense that you'd trade in the whole marriage if it meant she would have a shot of living a longer life apart from you."

"You're right," he admitted quietly. "And if she were here, she would call me a self-important jackass for even entertaining the idea."

Lucy's brows wrinkled together thoughtfully as she stood up to challenge him head-on. "I think you just found a way to underhandedly tell me that I'm being a self-important jackass."

He squinted at her with a frown. "That was a risky strategy, wasn't it?"

"Reckless, even," she agreed, nodding along with him. "Kind of your trademark, right?"

"Hmm, guess so. You'll have to let me know how it pays off this time."

"Come a little closer and I'll tell you," she said with a cunning smile.

Wyatt's head dipped again, taking her lower lip victoriously between his teeth. He had her up on the table a second later, eagerly sloping forward between her legs until he felt her heels digging into the backs of his thighs.

"Hey, are you guys up for - damn it, _not again_!"

There was a distinct thudding noise as Rufus immediately backpedaled away from them, cursing up a storm as he stumbled backward.

"Sorry buddy," Wyatt called out without so much as a glance in his direction, eyes still transfixed on Lucy's mouth despite the interruption.

"Okay, just because this is the way God intended it to be _does not mean_ I need to walk in on it all the time now. _Jeez_. Jiya and I are going for drinks, but you're both uninvited now."

He was fleeing the scene as fast he could then, mumbling something about rabbits under his breath as he went, and Wyatt knew that the whole facility was about to get an earful on their current relationship status now that an indignant Rufus had been unleashed.

"So much for being discreet," Lucy murmured dryly.

"Let's get out of here while we still can," he answered with a wary eye to the door. "These people might not be as bad as Rittenhouse, but I still don't like our odds of facing an interrogation from all of Mason Industries at once."

They dashed out of the facility hand-in-hand, not stopping until they were both panting at the passenger side of his vehicle. History mercifully repeated itself as Lucy ignored the door that he'd opened for her, opting to open her lips to his instead. Wyatt swayed into her and let it all in, welcomed the patter of her racing pulse, stole each feverish breath that passed between them, embraced the chaotic rise and fall of her chest against his. Nothing - not a power outage or a secret society or the ghosts of the past - could compete with the surging rush of limitless voltage that crackled between them now.

* * *

 _a/n : Hey! Reviews are fun! Thanks for reading!_

 _Also sidenote: that thing about UFO sightings in Syracuse before the power outage is truly a documented speculation from the time of the real blackout! It was too good for me to pass that up when I found it :)_


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